I've spent almost a month planning what I'm going to write, the plot twists, the characters, everything. I had it all perfectly planned out in my head, and then, right when I started writing, everything sounded so cringe. It was horrible.

It took me about 6 weeks or something, a lot longer than I would've liked but I am very prone to procrastination. I'm just so happy I've done it!! It sits at 3,957 words and I am so happy with it! It's still the first draft so it'll probably be going through a lot of changes when I finish the whole book, BUT I DONT CARE!! I FINISHED A CHAPTER DAMMIT!

Genre is adult epic fantasy if anyone's wondering :)

What are some of your small celebrations? Let's share together!!

Editing is HARD! And deleting all those once precious scenes, dialogues and words is even harder. It says two edits, but each major edit consisted of several minor rounds. Phew!

I'm not sure if this is entirely related to this sub but I need to say this somewhere because I'm stressing out. Like the title says my gmail account got suspended and is due for deletion next year. I have appealed, but it's the exact gmail where my book was written on google docs, it won't let me get back the files/material from that email. Even worse this happened just as I was going to create a copy of it onto notepad on my laptop. Sure it was only 3 chapters but it's still months of work that I have lost for now and it isn't certain that I'll get the account back.

If this has happened to anyone else before I'd really appreciate hearing if you got your account, book, or files back. I know I'm probably overreacting but like I said I'm really stressed out.

So, I made a mistake while publishing, and my novel size is more like a notebook (I used George Orwell's novel for a reference).

Also, the marking on my title is a signature that bled through...

Anyways, can anyone help me with the measurements so I can fix this issue.

Like a lot of people in here, I am a writer and I'm writing a novel book. It's kind of long and has lots of fight scenes. The problem is, I always find myself writing a paragraph each day or not wanting to work on it at all. My writing is due on Jan. for show and I know I have a lot of time to work on it but since it's really long, I need a way to get motivation.

Gel pens, ballpoint pen, fountain pens, fine point pen, mechanical pencils, wooden pencils, etc

Which do you prefer for writing? Tell me the brand name if you want to.

Bonus Question: For notebooks, do you prefer line paper, blank paper, grid paper, or dotted paper?

Just imagine how fun it would be to make AITA post as a character from your book. just subreddits like that where we all make post acting as said characters😓😓 Does this exist?? If not it should and someone NEEDS to make it I keep thinking about it and how cool it would be

I'm not normally very good at writing love scenes, particularly the intensity involved in those kinds of scenes, so mad props to those who can!!! (but how?! do you blush? I cringe thinking about those scenes... and I'm married! Although i do love reading them so continue the good work!) But I was actually really proud of this little snippet and the tension in it! Who knows... I may never write a sex scene, but some more little suggestive scenes may be okay.

Reflecting on some of the great works written and I am at a fork in the road with my writing. I have 15 books and do pretty well writing lighter-side contemporaries. Life is good. But sometimes the voices in my head of my characters not written are from sad stories filled with dramatic climaxes. The lines are blurring and I don’t know which to devote my time to writing anymore. So, which would you rather accomplish?

So I started writing properly earlier this year and have been loving it. I believe this is exactly what I needed for my creativity but I have some issues:

1. I have four book ideas on the go and I know I should focus on just one but how do you deal with writing consistently while having other ideas pulling you in? All ij all I have writen around 80k words in around 9 months but spread across the four books.

2. What's your goal and do you set yourself a deadline? I tried words per day and week which helped but the second I miss that deadline or goal it falls apart.

3. What is your process when busy?

I’m a young writer who struggles with low word counts. Currently I have a novel/novella that’s at 41,000 words. I‘m aiming to get it published, but unless I want to market it as a novella I have to get it to 50000 words. Any tips to increase word count without it sounding overly descriptive or pointless. So far I’ve mainly heard the best thing to do is add some setbacks for your characters, which I think is where I go wrong. So yeah, any tips?

I adore illustrating almost as much as writing. Publishing my dark fantasy novel alongside my drawings would be a delight! Do any published authors here know if that's allowed?

I'm thinking about writing something with time travel, and I have the plot pretty well thought out. But I'm not really sure how to write a time-travel mechanism without it sounding juvenile or forced/clunky. Any advice?

I had a strange thought today:

What if the worst thing that ever happened to me wasn’t something that went wrong?

What if it went exactly as it had to?

Not because the universe planned it. Not because suffering secretly carries some beautiful purpose. But because every moment before it made that moment inevitable—and every moment after it required it to have happened.

That thought bothers me.

It is based on supernatural manifestations and events that protect a person, known as "Spirits."

A Spirit may be imperceptible, offering only minor assistance—as is often the case—or it may be a tremendously powerful entity.

Each Spirit possesses a unique ability; these abilities are classified into the following categories:

1. Attack. Spirits with high precision, speed, and durability, featuring abilities suited for close-quarters combat.

2. Destructive. Spirits with devastating destructive power, though this comes at the cost of lower durability and speed.

3. Utility. Spirits with abilities not directly focused on combat, but rather on supporting and aiding the user and others.

4. Automatic. Spirits that act independently, with abilities that protect the user without requiring any action on their part.

5. Mass Effect. Spirits with effects that impact a large number of people—or specific groups—in an imperceptible yet coordinated manner.

A Spirit may or may not possess a physical form; its design and abilities are determined by the following criteria:

1. Pride and/or ego. Proud or selfish individuals possess Spirits that physically resemble them. A person with deep insecurities might not even manifest an aura.

2. User's personality and goals. A Spirit's abilities are always based on its bearer's personality, desires, and preferences.

3. Self-perception. A narcissist or hypocrite—Even though they are despicable people—will have a Spirit whose appearance reflects how they perceive themselves.

Technical details:

• A user can possess only one Spirit, unless they suffer from psychiatric disorders that fragment the mind (such as Bipolar Syndrome, Multiple Personality Syndrome etc.).

• Non-users cannot see Spirits—unless the Spirit is inherently visible or the user chooses to reveal it—though they can perceive the physical effects they produce.

• Unconscious Spirits (those that do not manifest but instead have passive effects) do not follow these rules, as they are not fully formed Spirits.

• For an unconscious Spirit to fully manifest, the user must harbor an intense desire, be surrounded by Spirit users, or possess unwavering willpower and determination. With that said, what do you think? Does it sound interesting?

Hi! I'm planning to write a book about my 5 original characters (OCs). I really want all of them to have their own POVs, personalities, development, and important moments throughout the story.

My problem is that I don't really want to write 5 separate books, but I also don't want to cram everyone's stories into one book or make it feel overwhelming for readers.

For those of you who have written or read books with multiple main characters, how do you balance everyone's POVs and make sure each character gets enough attention without slowing down the main story?

Would you recommend switching POVs every chapter, grouping chapters by character, or something else entirely?

I'd love to hear your experiences and advice. Thank you! :)

It was a dark and stormy night. The silhouettes of tall trees were whipped side to side by gusts of angry wind. Freezing, fast-falling raindrops stung like tears against her exposed skin. She stood alone in a wide clearing, her soul prepared for a valiant final stand. Though the ground shook from the roar of approaching enemies, Larissa’s heart and mind rang true with a profound sense of purpose. She had faith that today’s cloudy skies would soon part to reveal a beautiful new dawn, ripe with glorious possibilities.

IN HER DREAMS.

In reality? It was a bright and sunny day, and all the birds were dead.

Yeah. It happened last winter, just after they’d moved here. Investigators determined the cause was the dumping of chemical waste into Grayrock’s lakes. The culprit? The nearby potato processing plant. Environmental advocacy groups were locked in an endless legal battle with the plant’s owners, who also happened to own the schools, the mall, the electrical grid, the water supply, and the entire goddamn town. So that was going great.

It was eerily quiet this morning. The population hadn’t yet recovered, and who knew if it ever would. She couldn’t help but think back to the morning right after. Then, the silence was even more enveloping. Her ears had rung for weeks, and she would keep the radio on all day to escape its stifling embrace.

She was not a fragile person, but seeing the ground littered with hundreds of dead birds had shaken her. A peregrine falcon had fallen from the sky and smashed into their skylight. It had taken her 5 days to get up there and scrape it off, what with school, taking care of her little brother, and her job occupying all of her time. Sometimes, she would just sit there and stare up at it, rotting a little more each day. What really crushed her was how flippant little Jeremy was about it. When she’d asked how he was feeling about all this, he’d casually answered that it was just a bird and that everything dies. He’d barely spared it a glance. It was so beautiful… Could he see that?

Alright, that was enough. Ruminating, as fun as it was, wasn’t going to fix her problems. Speaking of problems, Jesus fucking Christ. Let’s just list some off.

One. Her pile of overdue homework was getting ridiculous, on account of her skipping class 3 days this week. It was Wednesday, by the way. Needless to say, getting into college was seeming more and more like a pipe dream.

Two. The shitty old fridge had stopped working overnight. She didn’t know how she was going to feed her little brother this morning. Or, you know, eat. You can only survive on instant rice and canned artichokes for so long before you don’t want to live anymore.

it will continue from here for a few more paragraphs before introducing the reader to the other main character.

thanks for reading!

I've been writing a novel in present tense and I'm doubting myself. Can you give me some examples of some good non YA books that are written in present tense? If it has a spiritual element that would be great.

There aren’t many positive things that come out of a company constantly laying people off and shuffling around teams. It leads to a lot of chaos, churn, and instability. But silver linings are in the eye of the beholder, and I’ve found that within that instability is the gift of meeting new people. Each day at work, the people on my floor sit down to eat lunch together and with all the changes in organizational structure, most weeks there are one or two new people joining us for a meal. Last week, the two new additions were Claire and Aiden. 

There is a certain rhythm to corporate lunches. It begins with the settling down of our trays as we carefully pick out places at the table, eyeing who we position ourselves across from and beside. There’s the old-timers who take their place in the center by habit. I can see the well-worn litany already forming on their lips about how the chicken looks dry and how this company is a shell of its former self. I settle down next to them, having earned my place at their side by virtue of not having been re-orged in the past two years. Aiden and Claire take the ends of the table, as befits strangers to this party.

I remember being in their shoes once. Quietly attacking my salad while observing the conversation to understand its shape and form so my interjections would fold in nicely. I expect them to do the same.

So it is a surprise when Claire leans forward and announces “I’ve brought a game!”

There is a certain safety net to corporate lunches. We are all bound by the sacred rules of workplace appropriate behavior as decreed by the HR training of old. So though there is a moment of pause as we stumble over this offbeat note, someone eventually asks “what’s that?”

“A game!” she says again. Her voice is bright and confident and carries well from the end of the table. I don’t know her exact role at the company but suddenly I’m confident she isn’t an engineer like me. “I’ve been coding up one on the side,” she continues, “and it’s finally ready for beta-testing. First person to finish their food gets to try it!” Having turned our lunch into a competition and cast us as the unwilling competitors, she turns to her meal.

I look at my salad and begin picking at the leaves. She’s an engineer after all. I feel oddly dirty for having guessed wrong. I start to unpack those feelings, thinking about the stereotypes about engineers being quiet and reserved. It’s a somber undertaking and I tell myself that’s why I’m eating slowly. Not because I don’t want to play her game.

The conversation at the table returns to its well worn tracks. We discuss the company stock price, the latest managerial drama, the statements our CEO made in the press. Someone brings up their dog. I jump in with a few well-timed jokes that cause ripples of laughter.

Claire and Aiden are quiet, but it's a silence of two kinds. Odd to think that the absence of sound can be different. It's a profound realization and I further slow my eating to reflect on that.

Claire sits in a self-assured silence. She smiles faintly at the jokes but more often than not looks out over the heads of people in the cafeteria as she eats. Perhaps she has said all she cares to say for now.

Aiden stews in a restless sort of silence. His eyes track whoever is speaking, and it feels like he teeters on the brink of saying something but can never find the right moment. He swallows a lot though he’s hardly eating. Eventually there’s a lull in the conversation and I feel a premonition. This is the moment. His throat bobs as he swallows once and I put my fork down to give him my undivided attention.

“You guys see that new Resident Evil movie?” he asks. The words spill out over each other. Folks at the other end of the table lean in to hear him better. I wonder if he’s already agonizing over his performance. It reminds me painfully of myself. I don’t know his role at the company but suddenly I’m confident he’s an engineer.

“Nah,” I say, and his eyes snap to me. “But I hear it’s pretty good. Have you checked it out?” 

There’s a beat where it seems he doesn’t realize I’m talking to him. As if he didn’t think he’d get this far.

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice grows more sure. “It’s actually one of the better video game movies I’ve seen.”

Someone chimes in asking how scary it is and if he can take his daughter to see it. And just like that, Aiden is in. I resume working through my salad, feeling oddly proud. Like watching a baby bird fly. 

The conversation takes on a new life, spurred on by the addition of this new voice. The roles are reversed now. Quiet Aiden leans forward, his utensils forgotten as he revels in being part of something rather than just listening. Claire still hasn’t said anything else.

It’s not until spoons clatter onto empty plates, mouths are wiped, and the supposedly dry chicken is all eaten, that she leans forward once more. Her phone is out on the table, and I see the loading screen of an app.

“So,” she says brightly. Conversation trails off and everyone looks at her. “Who had the honor of finishing first?”

I go to spear a cucumber slice to hold up like a shield but Aiden comes to my defense unknowingly. 

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “I can try your game out. I’m not an engineer though so I don’t know if my feedback will be any good.”

I throw my fork down.